Thirteen drops of blood
by freedombubblegum
Summary: Arthur never believed in zombies. He never expected a zombie apocalypse. And he most certainly never expected Peter to grow up so fast. They may be nations, but they suffer the same way humans do.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia. Obviously.**

**Warnings: Blood and swearing, but more so in later chapters. And angst.**

**_Italics - Flashbacks_  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Arthur."

"_We're going to be going away for a while."_

"Arthur."

"_Take only the most important things."_

"…Arthur?"

"_Hurry! They're coming!"_

"Arthur!"

He woke up with a gasp. Peter stared at him from his seat in front of the campfire, with a slight frown on his otherwise emotionless face.

"Your turn to keep watch."

Arthur got up slowly, wriggling out of his tattered sleeping bag.

"Right. Thanks for waking me up."

Peter shrugged, crawling into his own sleeping bag.

"Watch out for zombies."

Arthur shivered as a gust of wind swept through his hair. A crow's call echoed through the night forest that surrounded them.

* * *

It's been two weeks since the first infections. 10 days since the first zombie and the beginning of the panic. 6 days since the TV reports turned into repeated recordings and the government collapsed. 5 days since the phones and Internet went down. 4 days since they had to leave.

3 days since he last spoke to anyone except for Peter.

2 days since Peter stopped asking if Tino and Berwald were okay. Years since Peter last shed a tear in front of Arthur.

The last time Arthur saw a live report on television, they said that 25% of the world's population was gone. Arthur assumed it was probably about double that now. 50% of the world, gone in less than a month.

It was like a countdown to insanity.

An apocalypse, they said. The end of the world. Arthur didn't know what to call it. When was it the end? Could you still say it was the end when there were people still alive? People were still fighting; whether that was brave or stupid Arthur did not know.

Arthur never believed in zombies. Everyone talked about them, but Arthur had no interest in it. It was a trend, and nothing more.

Just weeks later he was escaping his home with the younger micronation, heading on one of the last boats heading towards central Europe. People were going insane. The air smelled of sickness and everyone spoke only in hushed whispers. Some people cried. Some just sat and observed the world crumble around them. Some held tight onto ripped bibles and prayed for someone to hear them. Belongings were stolen. People were dying on a daily basis, whether they were bitten or murdered or it was something simple such as hunger. Cars all ran out of gas, and people had nothing else to do but wander the streets or go someplace else by foot. Humans were fragile.

Nations weren't affected as badly. Some stayed in their home countries, trying to keep their people safe and playing the job of their whole government. Some abandoned their land and went to see other nations, whether to work on a cure, which was almost hopeless because the government was gone, or just to survive with the company of a friend. Some, like Peter, were abandoned by their citizens and were forced to stay with another nation. Whether they were also affected by this disease was yet unknown.

Arthur poked at the slowly dying embers in the campfire. Three nights of this and he was already tired. He'd seen countless people die. He'd shot countless people who were already dead. It had only been a week and he was already numb.

He heard a crack in the bushes and his hand shot to the gun beside him. They hadn't run into too many zombies yet, but he'd seen enough to know he already had to be ready. Not just for himself, but for Peter as well. In fact, more for Peter than for himself. Peter was fragile. It was Arthur's responsibility to take care of him, despite the fact that they never were close.

Arthur wouldn't deny it, he wished things were different. He wished they were closer, he wished he actually had the heart to be a proper older brother from the start. Peter's silence told him it was too late.

* * *

"Peter. Wake up."

Arthur shook the smaller figure lightly, wincing as the thin line of sunlight shone through the trees. Ash scattered the ground. Arthur picked up his bag, which was already packed, and shook the younger one again.

"Peter. We need to leave soon."

Peter groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He slowly crawled out of his sleeping bag, and packed it up silently.

"Are you ready?"

He nodded.

"Alright. Let's head off."

They didn't have time to change the clothes they'd been wearing for the last four days, or eat, or do anything they would've done on a normal morning. They walked in silence, an occasional bird call filling the air. Arthur stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Peter, what day was it?"

"It's the 24th."

He spoke blankly. Arthur glanced over, and the young boy's face was blank as well.

"Right."

He ran through the map in his head. After so many centuries, he knew the world by heart.

"Paris shouldn't be too far."

"That's where we're meeting Francis, right? On the outskirts of Paris?"

"Exactly. Away from the city, so hopefully the zombies won't be so bad." Arthur scratched his head.

"Arthur."

Arthur stopped, turning around to see Peter frozen, staring at something in the distance. A lumbering figure, growling softly and slowly crossing their path.

"Peter, stay back. I'll handle this." Arthur approached, hands on his weapons. One knife, one shotgun.

"Remember, it's the brain you need to hit." Peter whispered softly behind him.

"I know."

The zombie, who hadn't noticed Arthur yet, dragged his rotting feet across the dirt. A man, in his late 20's. Bits of blonde hair managed to stay on his head, and the scraps of clothing that remained seemed of what the latest fashion was, back when everyone still cared. He reminded him slightly of Alfred. Arthur felt a pang in his chest and he drew a sharp breath. The corpse turned around, growling.

Arthur hesitated, but only for a second. Drawing his blade, he stabbed it through the dead man's head. Blood spattered on Arthur's face, and he cringed. The body fell swiftly to the ground.

He knew it wasn't Alfred. He could tell, even with the man's mostly decomposed face, that he was a stranger. Not Alfred. His hands shook as he got down on his knees to rummage through the pockets for anything of value. All he found was an unused cigarette and a candy wrapper.

"Why did you hesitate?"

Arthur gasped and dropped the things in his hands.

"Peter! Please, don't scare me like that."

"Sorry." The micronation shrugged. "But really, why did you hesitate?"

Arthur paused.

"He…"

"_For god's sake Iggy, I'm the United States of America! I'll be fine, I promise."_

"He looked a bit like Alfred."

"Oh." The micronation opened his mouth, but closed it once again. "We should get going."

Arthur glanced at the corpse once more, and followed Peter into the woods.

* * *

"_Alfred? It's me, Arthur."_

"_Artie? Hey! How're things going?"_

"_Okay, I suppose."_

"_Artie."_

_The voice on the other side chuckled lightly._

"_You don't have to lie."_

_Arthur paused._

"_All of Peter's citizen's have left."_

_He bit his lip._

"_I'm assuming he's with you, then?'_

"_He's sleeping now."_

_Arthur could almost see Alfred smiling sadly on the other side._

"_Tell him I said hello."_

_Arthur looked over at the sleeping boy on the other side of his room._

"_Will do."_

_They both went quiet._

"…_How bad is it over there?"_

_Arthur peeked out the window._

"_There's a lot more out at night, but it's still not too bad since I live farther out in the country. It's most likely a lot worse in central London."_

"_Most likely? You haven't checked?"_

"_No. Peter and I haven't stepped outside in two days."_

_He stopped._

"_I think we're going to have to leave soon though."_

"_I'm at one of Mattie's resorts in the Rockies in Alberta. Figured we wouldn't be in as much danger in the mountains, and Canada doesn't have a very big population in the first place."_

"_I see. How's Matthew? I meant to call him next, but if he's with you I might as well talk to him now. Is he there?"_

"_He's asleep. We spent the whole day trying to contact everyone we can, and I think it tired him out. He's never had as much energy as me."_

"_And were you able to contact anyone?"_

"_Not much luck. We got a few words in with Ludwig, but we were cut off. I think I heard Feli in the back though."_

_He could hear Alfred chuckling._

"_Oh, and Artie?"_

"_Yes."_

"_You know Mattie and I are gonna fly over there."_

"_Alfred, don't be ridiculous. That's too dangerous."_

"_I'm not kidding. I've got a few spare planes back in the States, and Mattie's got a few too. Mattie's worried sick about Francis, he wasn't able to get in contact with him since this all started."_

_Arthur sighed._

"_There's no stopping you, is there?"_

"_Nope." Arthur could picture Alfred grinning._

"_Tell Matthew Francis is okay. I talked to him a couple of days ago and his phone reception was pretty bad. I think it's completely dead now, but he said he's going to stay around where his second house is on the outskirts of Paris, and we're hoping to see him there. Fly there if you're going to come see us."_

"_Will do. And if we're not there in a week, well…"_

_He didn't need to say anymore for Arthur to understand._

"_Same goes for us. A week from now, if we're not there, head back. You're most likely safer back in North America."_

"_Alright. Talk to you late-"_

"_Alfred?"_

_He paused._

"_Be careful. You and Matthew both." His voice cracked. Alfred paused, then chuckled softly._

"_For god's sake Iggy, I'm the United States of America! I'll be fine, I promise. I'll take care of Mattie."_

_Arthur smiled._

"_Alright. See you soon."_

"_Bye, Artie. You be careful too."_

_Arthur put the phone down. He let out a shaky breath, and sunk to his knees. Tears streamed down his face, and he covered his mouth to keep himself from sobbing._

_He couldn't lose them. Any one of them. Alfred and Matthew could take care of themselves now. Francis may be an airhead, but he was serious when he had to be. Peter would find Tino and Berwald, and they'd see all the other nations and everything would be fine._

_They were strong. They would all get through this._

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_**Reviews, **_**_favourites and follows are extremely appreciated! -hearts-_**_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the follows, favorites and reviews you guys 3

Warnings: Swearing

Enjoy! xoxo

* * *

"_You said you were going to take care of me."_

* * *

They trudged through the trees, neither of them saying a word. Arthur looked uncertain, glancing in all directions occasionally in fear and anticipation. Peter stared at the ground, his dirty sneakers crunching in the leaves. November was coming to an end. Frost coated the soil, and the trees were bare. Naked. Vulnerable.

"We should be there by tomorrow." Arthur coughed, awkwardly glancing over at the micronation. Peter nodded slightly, but otherwise gave no response. They walked in silence, and Arthur could hear just a tiny sliver of his brain screaming, howling at him because it was his fault, not the apocalyptic situation that surrounded them that Peter was like this now

**You left him alone, you gave Alfred and Matthew so much attention and now he doesn't trust you and it's your fault all your fault**

"Arthur? What defines a nation?"

Peter's sudden question jerked Arthur from his thoughts. Arthur blinked.

"Sorry?"

"What defines a nation? What's the difference between nations and, say, a dissolved nation? Someone who's no longer a nation? When can we say that someone is no longer a nation?" Peter sighed, his breath escaping his lips and melting into the air. "Do I need to repeat myself again?"

Arthur processed the thought, thoroughly picking it apart in his mind to find an answer. He paused briefly, before opening his mouth to reply.

"Well, a nation usually loses their title because their land is taken by another nation, their citizens become citizens of the nation that their land became a part of. You could say that a nation is no longer a nation when they lose what they represent. Their land, their citizens." He worded his answer carefully and thoughtfully, and Peter seemed to be satisfied because he fell silent, but asked something else soon after.

"Then why do some dissolved nations still exist? Like, say Prussia. He's not a nation anymore, but why does his physical form exist. Why didn't he just stop existing when his land did?" This caused Arthur to think. No one exactly knew how the albino remained until this day, when his land was long gone. Nations didn't really know much about themselves, Arthur noticed. They didn't have textbooks about how their physical forms came to be, and nobody really remembered when they started existing. That was one thing to envy about humans. They knew so much about their life, they always pressed for more and more answers until they died. Nations watched as people came and went. They didn't ask questions. They didn't go searching for answers. They accepted what came and relied on what they knew to solve problems.

"People do still refer to themselves as 'Prussian' , so I suppose you could say he never fully lost his citizens. He still represents something, therefore he still has a purpose to exist." He looked up, facing the grey sky. "Though he wouldn't let himself disappear, anyways."

He missed the energetic, red-eyed nation. More than he cared to admit. He missed his loud confidence, Ludwig's ability to keep everyone on task, Feliciano's cheerfulness, Francis' annoying sexual jokes, Matthew's politeness, Alfred's hero complex-

Fuck, he missed everyone. So much more than he'd care to admit.

"What if a nation was abandoned?" This time Peter caught Arthur by surprise.

"Abandoned? What do you mean?"

"If they all left. If a nation lost all their citizens, but still had land, would he be a nation?"

Arthur bit his lip. He knew where this was going.

"Is this about your citizens?" Even his quiet whisper was enough to make Peter cringe. Arthur took that as a yes.

"Look, Peter, it wasn't your fault that they left. They had no choice, they had family to check on, if they just stayed put they would have no source of food or clean water. They didn't want to leave, I'm sure. Desperate times call for desperate measures." Arthur was never good with comforting words. He felt guilt sting his chest as Peter looked down, falling silent once again. He didn't mean to hurt him or say something wrong, and oh how he wished he had been there for him more when Peter was younger-

"Nations are like fire." Arthur was caught by surprise once more. "Our citizens are like the wood that the fire burns. The fire needs wood to stay lit. The wood would be replaced often to keep the fire going, but the fire itself stays." Peter stopped and turned to Arthur, a sad smile on his face.

"What do you think happens to the fire when it runs out of wood, Arthur?"

He closed his eyes.

"It dies."

* * *

Arthur never thought he'd be so happy to get to Paris. Though it was nice, it had never really been his type of place. He thought it was too carefree. Francis in turn had called him boring and told him to loosen up a little.

"It was somewhere around here, right?"

"Erm… A little farther that way, as far as I can recall." They walked through the streets, occasionally seeing a figure in the distance. They hid, and it went away. Arthur visited Paris often for meetings and such, due to his country's close tie with the French country. He knew the streets well enough.

"Are you scared?" Peter had barely spoken to him the night before, after their conversation. But Arthur knew Peter cried that night.

"Scared? Of what?"

"Of him not being there." Peter's reply was blunt. Arthur felt a shock run through his body at this, but he covered it well.

**Don't even think about it**

"We've been lucky so far. I don't see why our luck would fail us now."

**Get a grip on yourself**

"Hm." He could tell Peter doubted him. He doubted himself. No matter how lucky they've been so far with zombies, he knew there was a chance, a chance that Francis would never come, that he was devoured and he was never going to come-

**Arthur Kirkland this will not happen and you know it**

He swallowed his thoughts, hid them and locked them up in the deepest darkest pits of his mind and they pressed forward.

"There, I think it's over th-"

Just for a second, the world froze.

His breath caught in his throat.

Peter's eyes widened, and Arthur could see the panic in his eyes.

Hoards of lifeless, rotting corpses filled the streets.

Peter's hands started to shake.

Arthur's voice had bailed on him as his knees buckled underneath him.

"What do we do?" Peter looked towards Arthur, but Arthur had no reply.

"…Arthur?"

**Don't do this to him**

"Arthur?"

**Get a fucking grip on yourself**

"Arthur!"

Arthur gasped, sucking in air and snapping out of his thoughts.

**You're his brother figure, do something**

Arthur stood up. He calmed down his breathing, clenched his fists and put on the strongest face he could muster.

"We're going to find Francis."

* * *

They hadn't ran into many zombies before, so Arthur was completely unprepared when he leapt into this situation. They sprinted around the corner and behind a building, avoiding the giant group of corpses, where Arthur stopped and knelt down to take Peter's shoulders in his hands.

"Peter, I need you to listen to me. You need to do exactly as I say. When I say run, you run. When I say get away and save yourself, that's what I need you to do. Be as quiet as possible, all right?" Peter nodded vigorously, and Arthur gave him a sliver of a smile.

"We're going to find Francis and get out of this. I promise." When Peter returned the sliver of a smile, Arthur got up.

"Okay, his house is a few streets down, so we're going to have to be quick. As long as we're fast and quiet, they won't notice us."

It was easier said than done. They ran through alleyways, narrowly missing being seen by the zombies multiple times. Arthur was numb to the fear at this point. He didn't care about his life. He had to keep Peter safe. He would keep him alive, and find Francis as well. It would all go fine.

"Ah!" In the middle of an alleyway, Peter yelped. Arthur skidded to a stop, turning around and running towards Peter. He pulled them both behind a garbage can, turning to face Peter.

"What's wrong?"

Peter let out a sob, and Arthur covered his mouth to muffle the noise.

"Peter. Peter, listen to me. You can't cry, okay? They might hear us, so we have to be quiet." Peter nodded and suppressed his sobs, and Arthur released his hand from his mouth. "What happened?" Out of fear of bursting into tears again, Peter kept his mouth shut and pointed at his ankle. When Arthur folded up the jeans, it revealed a twisted and already swollen ankle. Arthur's eyes widened, and Peter cringed when Arthur tried to touch the wound.'

"Arthur, I can't do this."

Arthur looked up at Peter. He was traumatized, tears sliding down his cheeks. Even if he was a micronation, he was still only a boy.

"No, Peter, we've been doing great so far and I know we can make it, it's just a little farther. I know you can do it, alright?" Peter paused for a second, thinking over the possibility of their survival, and he nodded slowly. "Okay, let's go." After looking out for the walking corpses on either side of the alleyway, he helped Peter up.

"Can you run?" Arthur whispered, and Peter nodded.

"Not very fast, but I think so." Arthur bent down and put an arm around the smaller one's shoulder.

"I'll support you."

They limped down the alleyway quickly, Peter suppressing his tears and Arthur trying not to burst into tears himself. Right as they reached the end of the alley, Arthur heard a shuffling noise and he flipped back.

A corpse, facing them, stood at the end of the alley. Arthur's heart leapt to his throat as a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

They had been found.

Arthur knew this was going to happen. He tried to be positive for Peter, but he knew, he just _knew _that he was going to screw up somewhere and they were going to be in a shitload of trouble.

"Peter, run."

It was as if they were in slow motion. They tried to run as fast as possible, and the zombies ran (oh god they could run and Arthur knew they were **fucked**) after them, lumbering and growling as the horrid sound of their snapping teeth followed them through the streets of what used to be Paris. More and more of them came after them the closer they got to Francis' house, which was in more of a rich, secluded area, and the closer they got the faster Arthur's heartbeat was and they were so close but so, **so** screwed-

And before he even knew it, he was almost carrying Peter up the front steps of Francis' house as he threw themselves in and shut the door. The bodies crashed against the door, and they banged at it and growled but they couldn't get in.

Arthur was never more relieved.

He set Peter down and sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face from the stress and adrenaline of it all and before he knew it Peter was crying too because they both knew it was over (for the time being at least). Until Arthur snapped out of it and remembered they had more important things to do.

"I'm going to go make sure the back door is closed, so Peter you check the rest of the house for Francis." Peter nodded and headed to the kitchen to check for Francis or any signs of someone's presence, and Arthur headed to the back door. When he found it was locked, he headed back to where he left Peter to see him heading up the stairs.

"Peter?"

He followed him up, to find him frozen at the top of the stairs.

"Peter-"

He was cut off as Peter put his finger to his lips quickly, signaling for Arthur to be quiet. Arthur shut up, and turned to look at whatever was keeping Peter so quiet, when he heard something.

Whispers.

They were faint, but Arthur knew he was hearing hushed voices from down the hall and they weren't in his imagination. He tiptoed forward, signaling for Peter to follow him.

"…might hear you…"

"…have your knife ready. We don't know who it could be…"

Arthur pressed forward, until he was right in front of the door. He debated whether to say something or not, but he knew what he heard were actual voices and he didn't know what they were going to do if they turned around and left, so he took a shaky breath.

"Who's in there?"

All the voices immediately stopped, and no one moved until the door suddenly swung open.

"…Artie!?"

Arthur suddenly knew why the voices sounded so familiar.

Golden hair with an odd cowlick. Glasses that were a little crooked. Sky blue eyes.

Alfred F. Jones greeted him at the door.

* * *

_He took a breath as he hung up the phone._

"_Who was it?"_

_Arthur turned to face the younger one in the room._

"_It was Kiku. There's some people in his country that are trying to find a cure with other countries. Some of my scientists are involved as well."_

_Peter fell silent, and Arthur sat down on the couch. The curtains were drawn, and a child was crying outside, until there was a growl and a scream and then a crack and all went still._

"…_Arthur?" Peter whispered._

"_Yes, Peter?"_

"_What do we do now?"_

_Arthur stroked his hand over one of the books on the table beside him._

"_Now we wait."_

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Reviews are super duper appreciated 3

Also I need to practice writing more so feel free to send me a oneshot request and I'll write it! Send send send!


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